


2(+1) times Macarena had a gun pointed at her head

by miseenabime



Category: Vis a Vis | Locked In (Spain TV)
Genre: F/F, Missing Moments, Slice of Life, Vis a Vis el Oasis, Zurena, criminal duo, things I'd like to happen but never will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:49:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23910364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miseenabime/pseuds/miseenabime
Summary: "But the feeling she had with that gun was not what she expected, and made her enter panic mode. And she swears she’s going to shoot this fucking stain if it doesn’t-Click.A familiar sound made her mind stop, and her hand holding the sponge along with it.«Well, I thought we would at least be able to celebrate our first anniversary»"I think the title says it all. I like lists.
Relationships: Zulema Zahir/Macarena Ferreiro
Comments: 58
Kudos: 137





	1. One, Two

_“Be careful making wishes in the dark_

_Can't be sure when they've hit their mark_

_And besides in the meantime I'm just dreaming of tearing you apart”_

_– My Songs know what you did in the dark_

«Woah, that was close» said Zulema, relaxing against the car seat, with a satisfied expression on her face. She reached for something in the right pocket of her jacket, then turned to face Maca on the driving seat, who just turned off the engine «Cigarette?»

«Are you kidding me?»

«Me? Never»

Maca’s expression shifted from incredulous to incredulous and angry. Zulema could tell from the little wrinkle that formed between her eyebrows, right above her nose.

«I had a _gun_ pointed at my _head_ » the amount of emphasis on the two words was almost embarrassing.

«Yes»

«What the fuck is _yes_?»

«I believe it’s an affirmation. Yes, you had. Yes, I noticed. Yes, that was a gun not a fucking colander»

«Oh, this is so funny for you, isn’t it?»

«Actually, _yes_ » Maca slightly but firmly tilted her head to the side, opening her eyes wide just a bit more. Zulema thought about trying not to laugh, then did it anyway.

«Come on, like you never had it» she said smirking «I think that was also my gun once… or twice? Can’t remember»

«The unfortunate repetition of something dangerous does not turn something dangerous into a joke»

«In fact, I think you should start considering the idea of having it more often, you know, like a hat. It really suits you»

Maca slammed her hands on the steering wheel «Okay, that’s enough» and quickly exited the car. Zulema snorted, murmured something in Arabic about children, questionable mothers and Satan, then proceeded to open the car door.

«What’s up with this fucking scene, _rubia_?»

«What the fuck is wrong with you?» Maca inveighed against her, opening her arms.

«No, what the fuck is wrong with _you_?» Zulema pointed her right finger against her, and she sighed resignedly when the confusion didn’t leave Maca’s face.

«You’re here all acting hysterical for a gun, like a fifteen years old whose first robbery at the candy shop took an unexpected turn and not the murderer you are. Don’t you dare» she continued resolutely, preventing any comment from escaping Maca’s mouth «You have been in prison for years, we have been robbing for months, I thought you had your mind clear about it, but now I don’t understand if you’re really this fucking stupid or you’re just a liar».

«And how could I be a damn liar?» screamed at her the blonde.

«Because now I look at you in the face and I can’t tell if you’re recovering from an heist or from a fucking orgasm»

She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world and Maca’s jaw opens practically on its own. Her noticing for the first time her panted breath.

«What is that supposed to mean?»

«That maybe, that gun to your head… maybe you like it more than how you want me, and you, to believe»

Whit that, Zulema lit a cigarette and threw the lighter to an astonished Macarena, who nearly missed it.

«Now let’s burn this fucking car».

-

Macarena is cleaning the dishes, paying particular attention to that stupid tomato stain that doesn’t want to go away. The thought of what Zulema said some days ago coming to her mind just a few times. Well, maybe more than a few. Let’s say some. She was not stupid: it was her who offered Zulema this – what even is _this_? A partnership? A business? A damn soap opera? – deal, she knew she was not afraid of danger and that she was never going to be able to live a normal life again. But the feeling she had with that gun was not what she expected, and made her enter panic mode. And she swears she’s going to shoot this fucking stain if it doesn’t-

_Click._

A familiar sound makes her mind stop, and her hand holding the sponge along with it.

«Well, I thought we would at least be able to celebrate our first anniversary»

«Turn around»

A light sound of wood cracking. Macarena slowly turns to face Zulema – and her gun, at about two centimeters from her forehead.

«You want me to beg for mercy while looking in your eyes?»

«Do it and I shoot you right now» Zulema’s face imperturbable, like she was just in the middle of her morning routine.

«You know where the money is»

«Show me»

«I said you know-»

«Yes. _I want you to show me_. You bring it right to me» She nods, and Maca clamps her jaw as she begins to feel the first and shy heat of anger on her face. She turns to the right. « _Slowly_ » remarks Zulema, and Macarena has to breathe deeply to resist the urge to tear her tongue out with her bare hands, even if it means pecking a bullet in the head. Would be worth it. She reaches for their hiding spot and takes out the bag, then turns to Zulema, who still has the same stone face.

«Here you are, _mi media naranja_ » Maca smiles sarcastically.

«Count them» Maca smile disappears.

«What?»

«Count them» orders Zulema, again.

«You know there are like millions of euros in th-»

_Click_. Zulema adjusts the shot.

«I said. Count. Them.»

Macarena holds her breath, her anger becoming rage. She reaches the zipper and slowly opens the bag, taking out the first wad of banknotes. She was about to start counting, when Zulema bursts out laughing. She looks at the brunette like she could set her on fire just with her gaze.

«Fuck, this is so pathetic» she makes fun of her, marking each letter as clearly as possible, with wide movements of the lips. «You’re not even going to fight?» Maca doesn’t respond, she would spit fire.

«Okay, let’s make a deal. Since you’ve been so incredibly kind with me these months, I offer you one last chance: if you’re able to disarm me, I’ll leave silently, with no money at all – or, well, you can shoot me – but if you’re not, then…» she mimics “BANG” with her lip movement.

«Come on, _rubia_ » Zulema looks at her challengingly, licking her lips.

Maca straightens her back, first hesitant but now just full of rage and desire to tear apart her partner in crime. With a quick move, she reaches for her arm, but Zulema is way too fast.

«Missed. Other two»

Macarena grinds her teeth, this time she’s faster but Zulema defends herself and hits her on the shoulder with the back of the gun.

«Come on baby, last one»

Macarena is livid, and with a scream attacks the woman in front of her, and when she thinks she finally made it, she finds herself smashed against the cabinet, with the face crashed against the plastic, her hands firmly held on her back by Zulema and the barrel of the gun solidly pressed against her upper neck.

«What a pity» Zulema’s words are just a soft whisper in her left ear, and Maca is not sure that the shiver that goes down her spine is properly from fear. With a sharp movement, the brunette makes her turn around, to face her one more time and takes a step back, holding the gun straight forward her.

«Now, on your knees»

Maca is breathing heavily, sweating from the heat she feels in her body, frenzy flowing in her veins. Without ever taking her eyes off Zulema’s dark ones, she slowly gets on her knees, the gun following closely her head as it lowers. When she’s completely down, Zulema presses the barrel of the gun on her forehead, and Maca closes her eyes for one second, gasping, just for one second, because she has her eyes fixed with Zulema’s ones when she pushes the trigger.

_Click_.

Something is not right.

Macarena is still alive.

Zulema is smirking.

The gun was loaded blank.

Maca is still out of breath and overwhelmed by the heat, and before she has the time to completely realize what just happened, Zulema lowers herself to the ground, head held high and satisfaction painted all over her face, her eyes screaming loudly _see? I was right_. Before going back to where she came from – probably the deepest depts of hell –, Zulema gets closer to Macarena, her face just a few centimeters away, and whispers:

«I bet now you are _all_ wet»

And she’s gone.


	2. (Three)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The evolution of gun threats on Maca's life as everybody would like it to be

She mixes her drink with the black straw, enjoying the strong taste of gin in her mouth, and looks at the woman sitting in front of her, who was busy telling this story that she considered funny – as funny as you can consider a murder, but talking about Zulema what else would you expect – and had already drunk half of her black russian. They decided the last heist went too good not to celebrate it but, of course, not without first putting as much distance as they could between them and the cops. They could have bought this pub – and other four or five – with the money they had acquired today, but no one really felt like complaining about the location, and at least the drinks tasted good.

«…and so, he did the only right thing he could do: pushed the boy off the tower and went back to his business»

Macarena laughs a bit «Things we do for love».*

Zulema looks at her with two fingers under her chin and her head slightly tilted forward «What was he like?»

«Who?»

«That angel who got you arrested and gave you the priceless opportunity to meet me»

«A proper son of a bitch» Macarena’s comment snatches half a smile from Zulema.

«Well, in truth» Maca keeps talking, after taking another sip from her drink «he was really a son of a bitch, but I was too naïve, I blame also me for letting myself be fooled so easily. I was so in love that through my rose-colored glasses all the red flags just looked like flags»**

«Or maybe you like following red flags» her tone of voice clearly insinuating.

«Maybe»

Zulema takes a big sip and then proceeds to move the glass away, making space, so she can rest her forearms on the table and lean her torso towards the blonde. Maca notices the light shade of blue in her green eye pencil make-up.

«What color am I?» she asks softly.

Maca also moves closer to her, so she can look directly in her eyes «You were, are, and will always be fucking yellow».

Zulema bursts out laughing and goes back to lean her back against the chair, sitting – as always – in her own personal way to understand the word “comfortable”. Macarena smiles at that sight, thinking she has never seen the brunette with her legs crossed.

«So, that’s interesting» Zulema speaks again, bringing back Maca from her own thoughts about posture in the Arabic culture «I wonder what else you could do for the love of the danger, for him… you know, like stealing almost two millions euros, touching him under the table during an important meeting, bankrupting a company, killing his wife, having sex on his desk while leaving the door unlocked…»

«Oh, no» Maca commented, after taking a sip «make me rob all the banks and jewelry you want, beat any legitimate motherfucker who deserves it, but no public sex bitch here»

«You’re messing with me»

«I swear I’m not. It does not turn me on, it just isn’t my thing, like, you know, those fetishism about feet, or pi-»

« _Īsā_ , stop right there» Zulema interrupts her, raising an hand to prevent the discussion from slipping along an inevitable spiral of peculiar and perfectly ignorable vices of the human being. With one last big sip she finishes her drink and then stares blankly at Maca.

«What?» asks the blonde.

«I’m disappointed»

«Sorry, you’ll have to find somebody else to lick your feet»

«If you don’t stop drinking you’ll start thinking you’re funny» Zulema crosses her arms «I’m disappointed because I was wrong. And, as you perfectly know, I’m never wrong»

«Looks like you are… about what, exactly?»

«Your fucking face»

«I love it, when you compliment me»

Zulema ignores her «I look at your fucking face and it screams _please, fuck me under your desk while you’re talking to this client_ » she frowns a little «while your mouth is saying that my intuition is wrong»

«Rather than wrong, I’d say this is basically the plot of a low quality porn movie» Macarena laughs and finishes her drink, but the woman in front of her is not even remotely smiling: she still has that look, with her lips slightly curled, her eyes thin and her gaze fixed. Maca immediately recognize this as the expression she had seen many times in jail: it meant she was planning something, either escaping or a new way to torture somebody. Zulema was not convinced.

«Well… I’ll go to the toilet, if you excuse m-» before she could finish her sentence, Zulema let her right arm heavily drop on the table, while with the other she supports her head, her cheek and chin resting on her hand. Maca jumps a little at the unexpected noise and she swears no living creature on earth would be able, not even in the slightest way, to understand the gargantuan dimension of _how fucked up_ this bitch brain has to be.

«Two million euros for your fucking thoughts, Zulema Zahir»

«Despite whatever you are saying right now» she smiles ironically «I bet you would do anything with a gun pointed at your head» 

_Have sinks always been so loud?_ Maca is frowning, while looking disappointingly at the flow of water that hits her hands with an unbelievably loud noise. _Who the hell decided that sink must have this shape, anyway? That’s odd. And what is this smell? Jesus, it’s sickening_. She wrinkles her nose and sniffs a couple of times. Ah yes, it’s the soap. Disgusting. It smells strange, somewhere between lemon detergent and lavender. She likes lavender, but she has always hated the lemon detergent that her mom used, she couldn’t stand the smell. Maybe that’s why this strange scents combination makes her uncomfortable. _Or maybe it’s because your mother is dead_. She suddenly stops and looks up at her reflection in the mirror and, in a couple of seconds, instead of her face she sees her mother features, instead of the toilet she is in her old kitchen, instead of the soap there’s that yellow bottle of lemon cleanser. Maybe that’s why, since the very first day, she has bought only orange flavored detergent to wash dishes with Zulema. _Zulema_. She lowers her head, going back to her washing hands business, the only thought of the sound of that name enough to bring her back to reality. If possible, the flow of water seems to have become even nosier, but now it doesn’t bother her that much. In a moment of clarity, she realizes that maybe – _maybe_ – she is enough drunk – or at least not sufficiently sober – to have thoughts and ideas that she is not going to be able to trust the next morning.

She thinks she should definitely plant an orange tree.

Satisfied with her hands disinfection, she closes the valve, and that’s when she feels it: a light but firm pressure between her third and fourth cervical vertebrae. She raises her head and looks in the mirror. She sees herself, messy hair and slight traces of mascara under her lower eyelids, lipstick lightly smudged on her upper lip left corner. Behind her, some black hair and dark eyes, looking directly at her in her reflection. Zulema has her index and middle right fingers pointed at her back, with the thumb facing upwards, and Maca realizes it. _She’s holding a gun_. When she understands it, she slowly turns around to face the other woman. Zulema is still pointing her hand at her, and for a brief moment Maca is sure she would be able to shoot bullets from her own fingers. They stay like this for what feels like forever, in silence, just looking at each other. But Maca already knows, and if the other woman thought she would be afraid, she is damn wrong.

She takes a step forward. _I bet you would do anything with a gun pointed at your head_. Zulema’s hand is now just under her chin. With a quick movement, Macarena grabs her wrist and slowly brings the barrel of the gun in her mouth, sucking her fingers.

Zulema doesn’t blink an eye, and watches the scene as if she was on an higher level. But as much as Zulema likes being imperturbable and superior to the rest of the human beings, it’s still her fingers that Maca is licking, and she can not control the glimpse in her eyes.

She takes her fingers out of Maca’s mouth and feebly grabs her neck, lifting her chin a little, looking directly in her eyes.

A loud sound of chatter outside interrupts their staring and makes Maca abruptly turn towards the door, like a fawn quietly walking in the forest, that all of a sudden is awoken by the cracking of woods, which reminds him about the existence of hunters. The brunette recognizes the rapid reflection of danger that passes in Macarena’s eyes, and before she has the chance to change her mind, say something, or walk toward the door, Zulema grabs her by the shoulders and pushes her against the wall behind them.

Maca didn’t see that coming at all, and is now panting against the wall, wondering if the other one is going to turn this into a torture. She receives her answer when Zulema’s hand slowly moves from her neck down her body, making sure to trace every curve she encounters, while she’s softly breathing in her neck, hard enough to create a wave of shivers with every exhale, but careful enough to never really touch her skin with her lips. This was going to be a torture.

The beating of her hearth echoes through her whole body, and a familiar warmth makes its way under her skin when Zulema’s hand reaches her hips and squeezes them. _Fuck_. Maca gasps. _If you can’t beat them_. She grabs her wrist. Zulema rises her head, questioning her with her eyes. With a firm and rapid movement, Maca pushes her hand right under her pants. _At least don’t give them satisfaction_. Zulema smirks and Maca wants to rip that expression off her face with her bare teeth. So she does. With one hand she draws the other woman’s face towards her and crashes their lips together. Maca thinks this is what feels like kissing the Fear, and she would have never guessed fear tasted like coffee liquor and tobacco. She must almost suppress a moan, when Zulema presses her body against hers, deepening the kiss and using this opportunity to slide two fingers inside her.

The brunette seems amused by her struggles to survive, so she decides to take some revenge and bites her lower lip. _Nice huge mistake_. Zulema responds with a push of her fingers, opening her legs wide with one knee, and Maca has to hide her face in her neck to not moan out loud. She regrets this so much she does it again. And again. And again. The harder she bites, the deeper she feels Zulema’s touch. She must have lost track of time and control over her own body, because she finds herself moving her hip along with the brunette’s hand in a desperate attempt to feel _more_. The warmth that before was just waves, now invades her body in a homogenous way and she swears something inside her must be on fucking fire, because she has never felt like this before. Or maybe this is what you get if you fuck up with fear.

She is on the edge of a damn ravine when she moans – quietly? Out loud? Like she would be able to recognize the difference right now – and holds on to Zulema’s neck with one hand, while closing her eyes and slightly throwing her head back. She thinks she is going to die when, all of a sudden, the movement in-between her legs abruptly stops.

Trying to control – with a disastrous result – her gasping breath, she opens her eyes, with confusion, question and disappointment painted all over her face, along with a great amount of exhaustion. Zulema is looking at her, narrow eyes and thin lips, but it’s the quick rise and fall of her chest that betrays her and her stoicism. They stare at each other _way too long_ – according to Maca’s perspective – but when Zulema is sure that her blonde prisoner is not going to escape from her again, she curves her fingers and gives another push, staring fixedly in her eyes. Maca must resort all of her strength to support that gaze, but she knows that the exact moment she looks away, Zulema is going to stop her torture, and she is willing to suffer _all the way in_.

Zulema’s movement increases deeper and faster, and Maca holds on to her neck like her own life depended on it – and, somehow, it does. When a discharge of electricity and heat explodes throughout her whole body in an exact and interminable moment, she has Zulema’s hair steadily held in her fist, a muffled moan escaping her mouth and her eyes still fixed with the dark ones right in front of her. Zulema imitates the movements of her mouth, parting her lips a little, then she moves closer to Maca’s face, until she brushes their lips together. She carefully removes her hand from in-between her legs and when Maca lets out an embittered sigh, the blonde can feel a smirk forming on the other woman lips.

Trying to reconnect with the reality, Macarena enjoys Zulema’s soft breathing in her mouth, on her skin, on her lips, while she proceeds to clean her fingers in the neckline of her shirt, from her breasts to her chin, passing from her neck and finishing in the corner of her lips. Then she brings them into her own mouth, making sure the sound of the movement to be as loud as possible. Just a moment later, she makes a sharp laugh and Maca realizes she was looking at her like she was in trance, and felt a little bit disappointed when Zulema’s body pression against her was gone. She licks her lips while turning around and walking theatrically towards the bathroom door, leaving Maca against a wall, which felt both a trap holding her glued, and the only way she could possibly stand on her own legs.

« _Ay rubita_ , let’s go» she says, with an unbelievably pleased tone «the bill is on you, _no public sex bitch_ ».

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Yes, that's a Game of Thrones reference  
> ** Yes, that's a BoJack Horseman reference
> 
> OKAY, you can't imagine how hards was for me to write the second part of this chapter, I'm not good at descriptions and I litterally had to threat myself not to put any dialog in that ahahah. So now that also part 3 is done, let me know if you liked it, and thank you all for your time spent reading this fic :)  
> (Also, have you seen the last episode of El Oasis? Do you start to understand something? Because I'm trying, but I'm still kinda confused ahahahah)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay this is the first fic I write about these two and also the first one in english (not my native language), it seemed too long for just one chapter but too short for three, so I decided to just split it in two, saving the (+1) time for the final :^)  
> Let me know your thoughts, I'd really appreciate that <3


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